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If there was one thing that Stiles loved most in the world, it was snow.
He liked how it looked. How white it was and how it seemed to glitter when the sun peeked through the bare trees and its light shone on it. How clean and precious and beautiful it was. How it piled up on the ground and covered it like a giant, white blanket.
He liked the things that you could do with it. You could create snowmen and snowangels. Build up snowforts to protect you as you have a fight with your loved ones. A snowball fight. You don't even have to make anything. You could just roll around in it and it would still be fun.
(Though, he doesn't recommend that because you could catch a cold. And colds suck.)
Snow could never bore the young boy.
"Dad, I'm going outside!"
"Make sure you're bundled up! Don't need you catching yet another cold."
"I will!"
Stiles made sure that he had his coat, his hat, his gloves, his scarf, and his snow boots. Checking off everything in his head, he waddled out of his room to make his way down the stairs. When he had reached the last step, he was tackled to the ground, hearing loud panting above him. He had screwed his eyes shut in his fall and, now, they fluttered open. A bright smile graced his features as he looked up at the furry animal that towered over him, amber eyes glowing like Christmas lights.
"Scotty!"
A bark was his response and a small lick on his face, the only visible and reachable skin. He could only giggle as he struggled to get out from under the large canine, sitting up once he did so. He reached forward to bury his long, nimble fingers into the dark brown, almost black, coat that had lighter brown highlights here and there. Still smiling, he ran his fingers through it, scratching at some places. "You wanna go outside with me, Scott? We can run around in the snow together!" Another bark and he was on his feet and out the door, Scott following him with a bounce in his step.
Scott has been with the Stilinskis for as long as Stiles could remember. They didn't have him when he was a baby, no. One day, Stiles was in the woods that he wasn't suppose to be in and had stumbled upon him. He seemed lonely and in need of a friend, according to the young brunet. Stiles had spent quite a bit of time with him before he had to head home since it was getting late and he was already pushing it.
(Can't have his Dad sending out a search party only to find him in the woods that he was told to stay out of, can he?)
But it seemed like Scott (before he was, well, Scott) had taken a liking to him and followed him home, no matter how many times Stiles tried to shoo him, lose him, or distract him. At the end, he ended up hiding Scott in his room, but that didn't last long for his Dad had found out about the canine quickly. Lots of begging and pleading and heartfelt promises later and here they were.
"C'mon, Scotty! Let's build a snowman!" Stiles exclaimed, gesturing for the wolf to come to him.
(Yes, wolf. Out of all the animals for Stiles to stumble upon that fateful day, it had to be perhaps the only wolf in all of California.)
Stiles watched, mirth in his eyes, as who he considered his bestest friend bound towards him, all wagging tails and hanging tongues and a bundle of eagerness. He never wondered why Scott was more dog-like that wolf-like. Or more domesticated, as his Dad would say. He thought that it was okay that he was different because Stiles was different, too, and that's why they had each other.
After a quick scratch behind one of Scott's furry ears, they set to work on making a snowman. It was easy to make the first snowball, despite some minor struggling for it did get heavy after some time. It was the second one that was difficult. Stiles didn't think about how they were going to get it up there. He definitely wasn't strong enough and Scott had paws for hands. After some internal debating, he decided that he would make it on top of the other. Thinking that he just had the idea of the century, he made a meduim sized snowball and put it on top. Then he began to pack more snow on it, making sure it stayed in a rounded shape.
"This is going to be the best snowman ever! We just need the head and then we can search for rocks and sticks and stuff like that," Stiles said. "Go fetch some sticks, Scotty! I'll find some rocks. M'sure there's some around here," he added. There was a bark before the sound of the snow crunching under footsteps rung out into the crisp air.
Stiles made another snowball and stood on his tippy toes to put it on the stop, careful not to knock the whole snowman down. He grunted as he gathered some more snow and packed it onto the snowman's head. Once it was big, but not too big, he stepped back to admire his work. For such a small boy, he did pretty good, if he said so himself. Now for the rocks.
By the time that he started working on the mouth, Scott came back with two sticks. He dropped them at Stiles' feet, waiting for the praise that he knew he was going to receive. And received it he did.
"Those are perfect for the arms! Good job, Scotty! You're such a good boy," he cooed, petting the top of the wolf's head, in between his ears. He bent down to pick up the sticks and stuck them in the middle snowball, making sure they were secure. The brunet, then, continued to work on his smile, putting in the last two rocks. He had some left in his hands, about three, and used them to make it look like he was wearing a button up shirt, placing them in a column down the middle snowball.
"Finished!"
Stiles and Scott both stepped back to look at it, tilting their head to the left and then to the right. Stiles frowned at it while Scott let out a whine, sensing that something was missing just like his owner was. But what could it be?
Tugging off his scarf and shivering as the cold air nipped at his neck, he wrapped it around the snowman. The scarf did add something to it. It didn't seem so plain now, but it still wasn't right. Searching his mind, Stiles tried his hardest to remember all of the pictures and images that he'd see of snowmen on TV or on the Internet. When it finally came to him, he snapped his fingers in realization, accidentally gaining Scott's attention as well.
Whirling around, he began to make his way back to the house. "I'll be right back! Protect the snowman!" He called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the house. He needed to get a carrot and a top hat. That's what the snowman was missing. He bolted into the kitchen, jerking the fridge door open and take out one of their many carrots. Shutting the fridge, he then set off to look for a top hat, assuming they had one. And, surprisingly, they did. It was hidden inside the hallway closet on the top shelf. Stiles got it down, smacking all of the dust off of it and frowning at how diry it was. It'll work.
Making his way back outside, still dusting the top hat off, Stiles looked up only to laugh loudly. The sight that greeted him amused him to know end. Scott was patrolling the snowman, stopping every time he heard a noise. He was tense, like he was ready to pounce. The brunet never seen the wolf so serious before. At his laughter, though, Scott immediately lost his predator stance and attitude, bouncing back to his puppy-like nature. He was back to being all wagging tails and hanging tongues, much to Stiles' joy.
"Thanks for protecting, Chilly. Let's finish him off," Stiles suggested as he walked towards his best friend and the snowman. Chilly was the name he just came up with on the spot, but he liked it. Stopping in front of Chilly, he put the clean top hat on his head and stuck the refridgerated carrot in the middle of his face, in between his eyes and mouth.
Chilly was an official snowman now.
"We did it!" Stiles cheered, laughing as he heard barking join his cheering. His energetic energy rubbed off on Scott, who was now bouncing around and taunting his owner. It was obvious that he wanted to play. Or, well, play Tag. It was one of Stiles and his favorite games to play.
"Wanna play Tag, huh? Want me to chase you?" Stiles asked, watching as Scott got anxious, barking and bouncing around even more. "Okay, we'll play Tag. When I say 'go', I'll chase you. Ready?" There was a pause. "Go!" Scott took off running with Stiles right behind him. They ran around their snowy yard, barking and laughter filling the air around them. With a battle cry, Stiles had dived for Scott, tackling him, but not too hard or rough.
"Got you!" Stiles had exclaimed in a breathles tone. Giggling once more as Scott wiggled from under him and began to attack his face, which was a light red from exertion and the cold, with loving licks. Stiles accepted them wholeheartedly, knowing this was Scott's way of displaying affection and love. Soon his laughter died down and so did Scott's onslaught of licks and they were just lying there, enjoying the snow and each other.
"We should back inside. I wan't some hot chocolate," Stiles said, sitting up. He also began to feel the wetness of the snow seep into his clothing. He wanted to get out of the snow before he was soaked and had another cold. Getting to his feet, he waddled towards their front door, Scott following him. He opened the door up and let Scott in first before going in himself.
"You're finally back. Did you have fun?"
"Mhm. We built a snowman and named him Chilly. And we played Tag," Stiles answered his father, stomping the snow off of his boots on the matt at the door. Beside him, Scott was doing the same, wiping it off of his paws.
"Really? You built one all by yourself? I'll have to see Chilly," his Dad said as he helped him tug off his clothes and boots. When he was clear of anything wet, he handed him some dry, warm clothes since they just came out of the dryer and helped him slip those on.
"It wasn't by myself! I had Scott to help!" Stiles informed him, beaming brightly. He made his way towards the couch and climbed up on it, patting the spot next to him for Scott to jump on it as well. The wolf draped himself across his young owner's lap, relaxing. Stiles wrapped a blanket around them and rested his hand in his soft, fluffy fur, running it through it.
"Want some hot chocolate, Stiles?"
"Yes, please!"
Stiles hummed as he was brought a white mug full of hot milk chocolate and marshmallows. He blew at it before carefully sipping on it, not wanting to burn his mouth or spill it on him or Scott. Especially with how hot it was. After a few more cautious sips, the small boy was sipping at it without a care. It had cool down enough to just drink it without worrying. He gulped it down in record time, basking in the warmth it created in his belly and how it spread to the rest of his body. He set the mug down and let his head loll to one side, no doubt sleepy as one can be. Scott had already slipped into a deep sleep himself and Stiles was right behind him.
"Love you, Scotty," he mumbled before his breathing became steady.
John Stilinski could only smile softly at his son and his wolf, who were sleeping together soundly. Assuming they'd be fine, he let them be and headed back upstairs, the image forever etched into his mind.
If there was one thing that Stiles loved more than snow, it was Scott.